Chapter 18 #2
He had abandoned her. Disappeared. And now reappeared, as if by providence. All of it left her with a queasy feeling, although she was not entirely sure why.
She lost track of time, and the sky was just beginning to darken when she heard someone approaching the clearing. At once, she stiffened, but then she recognized the slither of skirts across the grass and relaxed.
It was a woman.
Moments later, Lillian appeared before her, holding a lantern. Although it was not yet fully dark, the light was welcome, casting a yellow glow over the freshly tilled earth, and over Cassandra, who knew she must look an absolute state with her arms and hands covered in dirt.
Indeed, Lillian raised her eyebrows as she approached.
“Gardening rather late, are you not, Your Grace?” she asked, a touch of amusement in her voice.
“And why should I not?” Cassandra asked, sitting back on her haunches and wiping her hands, perhaps garishly, on her dress, staining it with dirt. She smiled slyly at Lillian. “This is my garden.”
“Indeed, it is,” Lillian said, crouching down next to her. “Although in future, perhaps you ought to tell someone where you are going. The household has been looking for you as we prepare for dinner.”
“Ewan was looking for me?” Cassandra asked hopefully, and Lillian’s face darkened.
“Well, no… But Lord Christopher was.”
Cassandra looked away. “I do not want to be found by Lord Christopher. And if he really wanted to see me, he would not have run away from our marriage to begin with.”
“Perhaps that is true,” Lillian said. “But you would not want it said that you are avoiding him out of hurt and resentment. People may construe that you still have…”
She trailed off, and Cassandra gave her a horrified look.
“I should very much hope that no one is saying that about me!” she cried. “Nothing could be further from the truth!”
“I know,” Lillian said, with a heavy sigh. “It is very evident to me that you have no tender feelings toward Lord Christopher. That your feelings, in fact, range in a different direction.”
Her eyebrows moved up gently, and Cassandra felt her mouth go slightly dry.
“Is it so obvious?” she murmured.
Lillian placed a hand over hers. “Would it be so bad if I said yes? He is your husband, after all.”
“And yet, he is impenetrable! He remains behind walls that will not come down! And now that Lord Christopher has returned, I fear that he will retreat even further into the place of safety he made for himself.”
“The duke spent a long time building those walls,” Lillian said gently. “But I know that with patience, and with care, they will come down. I believe in you, Your Grace. More than that, I believe in the duke’s affection for you.”
Now it was Cassandra’s turn to raise her eyebrows. “You think he has affection for me?”
“I know it,” Lillian insisted. “And I think that people retreat most from the things that matter most.”
This was reassuring to hear, and Cassandra felt a little better by the time she had returned to the house, bathed, and changed for dinner. He is withdrawing because I matter most, she told herself, as she was seated at dinner, once more, next to Lord Christopher and her father.
It was an intolerable meal. Throughout it, Ewan remained even quieter than before. Even worse, he did not so much as look at her. Cassandra felt sick all night and barely touched her dinner.
She wanted Ewan to look at her, so that she could send him a reassuring smile, something to show him that she was his and his alone. But he remained stoic and stony-faced, barely even responding to Lord Whitmore’s conversation at the far end of the table.
Finally, after the dessert had been cleared away, and they were retiring once again to the parlor, Cassandra had a moment alone with her husband.
Everyone else had already disappeared into the parlor when she took his arm and led him aside, into a dark corner of the hall, where only a few dim candles guttered, casting dark shadows across her husband’s face.
“Ewan,” she murmured, as she turned to look up into his eyes. He was still not looking at her, his gaze fixed on something over her shoulder. “Look at me,” she said, her irritation rising, and at last, Ewan looked at her.
She frowned. “What is wrong?” she whispered. “I know that Christopher’s return must be shocking, but you seem not yourself. Quieter, more aloof.”
Ewan’s face darkened. “I am always quiet,” he said. “And you are not the first person to accuse me of being aloof.”
“You are not aloof with me,” she challenged. “Not anymore, at least.”
Ewan scowled at her. “I am merely being myself, Your Grace. But if I seem different, perhaps that is due to the fact my brother has returned from the dead. That is quite a shock.”
Cassandra felt tears of frustration rising inside of her, but she tried to swallow them down.
“I know something has changed,” she murmured, taking a step closer to him.
“Please, Ewan, talk to me… Tell me what you are feeling. Is it something I have done? Because if it is, I promise, I shall endeavor to change it!”
For a moment, it looked as if Ewan might crack. His eyes softened, and his lips parted, as if he were about to speak.
And then a voice came floating down the hall toward them.
“Cassandra? Where are you?” Christopher poked his head out of the parlor door and gestured at her. “Come, Cassandra, for we are to play whist, and I insist on partnering with you! You were always a brilliant whist player.”
“I—” Cassandra looked back at Ewan, but his expression had once more shuttered.
He bowed to her. “You should go,” he muttered. Then he turned and strode away along the corridor, leaving her staring after him, feeling more alone than she ever had.